


Put on Your Red Shoes and Dance the Blues

by ephemeralblossom



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Celebrations, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Dancing, F/M, Holidays, Masks, ToT: Chocolate Box, ToT: Extra Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-25 22:00:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12542128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeralblossom/pseuds/ephemeralblossom
Summary: It’s hard to obscure your identity when you’re one of the most famous people in the galaxy.





	Put on Your Red Shoes and Dance the Blues

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ambiguously](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambiguously/gifts).



It’s hard to obscure your identity when you’re one of the most famous people in the galaxy. Even at the solstice masquerade ball, with everyone wearing elaborate masks and dressed in a broad range of festive, historical, and fantastical costumes, a certain diminutive figure stood out from the crowd. During the time Poe had been watching her, she had been approached by only a few people; most had kept a tactful and slightly awestruck distance. 

This state of affairs couldn’t be allowed to continue. Whether or not she was the boss, and a galactic hero of legendary proportions, this was a party. Everybody deserved to have fun at a party. Poe snagged a couple of cocktails off a passing tray, mustered his courage, and strolled over.

“Excuse me,” he said, and found himself the subject of a humorous, piercing gaze. “Would you like to try a Tarkenian Nightflower?”

“Thank you,” she said, and accepted the glass. If he hadn’t known Leia before, he would’ve recognized her as soon as she spoke; her voice was utterly inimitable, rich and thrilling. 

Poe sipped his own drink. “Are you enjoying the party?”

“Let’s see,” Leia said, her eyes sparkling. “I’ve danced with a Wookiee, a Stormtrooper, and a clueless recruit who just arrived from Jaxon VI. Other than that, you’d think I have Direllian Plague. I should’ve resurrected Boushh for the night – maybe then I would have had a chance of staying incognito.”

“Finn danced with you?” She could have meant someone dressed as a Stormtrooper. But he didn’t see any of those on the dancefloor; even masquerade balls had limits of good taste. There were no Vaders or Kylo Rens present either. 

“Indeed,” she said. “It was thoughtful of him, but someone needs to teach him how to dance. I suppose they were focused on other things in Stormtrooper school.”

Poe laughed. “Did he step on your toes?”

“Murderously. Actually, Chewie was the best dancer of the three. Quite lightfooted.”

“Well,” Poe said, and deposited their empty glasses on a nearby table. “I take that as a challenge. May I have this dance?”

“Taking pity on me, are you?” she asked, a teasing curve to her smile, but she accepted his hand and came with him to the dancefloor. 

When she stepped into his arms, he smiled at her. “I am pitiless,” he said, pitching his voice so that only she heard. He leant down, his mouth brushing her ear. “I have the most beautiful partner in the Resistance.”

“You’re a dangerous flatterer, Dameron,” she said, her voice amused.

He twirled her across the floor. “I say only what I see.”

They moved together, their bodies brushing, their hands intertwined. The music was a living thing, its melodies cheerful and polyphonic, full of a pulsing beat that woke the blood in Poe’s veins. He danced with her, holding her close, and she danced with him, her eyes clear behind her mask.

When the dance ended, they looked at each other. She stood in the curve of his arms, his hands resting lightly on her waist, and she did not pull away. 

“I may be too bold, mysterious masked lady,” Poe said, “but it’s a masquerade, and I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t ask for a kiss.”

Leia’s mouth twitched, though she quickly mastered herself. “I think I’ve had enough of the ball for this year,” she said. “People will enjoy themselves more if they’re not watching me out of the corner of their eyes.”

Poe accepted the rejection gracefully, stepping back and breaking their loose embrace. “Sure you won’t have another Tarkenian Nightflower before you go?”

“One was enough for me,” Leia said. Her eyes still contained all the stars in the universe, and when Poe looked into them, he half thought he would drown. “Goodnight, Dameron.”

“Goodnight, lady of mystery,” he said, and in lieu of salute touched his hand to his heart.

She turned to go. 

Just as he had decided to go find Finn and teach him how to dance – hey, the General had recommended it, that was practically an order – she turned back.

“If you could find some Pink Nebulas, on the other hand,” she said, the curve of her mouth almost whimsical, “you might bring them to my quarters.”

Poe stared at her for a moment, hardly able to process the words, and then grinned, his heart beating a sudden hammer-thud under his ribs. “I am yours to command.”

“Don’t dawdle,” Leia said, and left him standing in the middle of the dancefloor, a ridiculously large grin on his face and a laugh bubbling up inside.

As rapidly as he could, Poe extricated himself from the swirl of couples around him and went in search of a bartender. 

He had a date to keep.

***


End file.
